


Unavoidable Delays in Reaction Time

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e20 Nothing Personal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a day of betrayals and near-death experiences, a late night visitor is the last thing Skye needs. Or it's the one thing she really does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unavoidable Delays in Reaction Time

It’s well after midnight by the time anyone actually bothers going to their rooms and Skye’s seriously doubting they’ll get much sleep. She’s already found a perfectly cheesy monster movie marathon on one of the hotel’s five channels that'll keep her and Simmons occupied. Phil and May will probably stay up until dawn plotting their next move. Trip’ll spend the whole night keeping watch. Fitz might manage to sneak in a few hours’ sleep but, from what Coulson told her on the ride over about Koenig’s autopsy, she doubts it.

A knock sounds at the door, just loud enough to be heard over Simmons’ shower. Skye’s chest constricts. She tells herself the bad guys wouldn’t knock but she still grabs her ICER on the way to the door. She debates between the window and the peephole to check the identity of the knocker.

“It’s just me,” Fitz’s voice carries through the door.

“Yeah,” she mutters, “that’s exactly what the evil, shape-shifting Hydra agent would say.” She’s not sure she really believes there are evil, shape-shifting Hydra agents, but she also doesn’t _not_ believe it so she leaves the chain latched when she opens the door. “Something happening?”

He looks over her head, angling to see into the room as best he can.

“Where’s Simmons?” he asks.

“Shower. What’s up?” She asks it casually. He’s not acting like there’s trouble but he’s still got to have a reason for being here.

He looks to the chain. “Can I come in? Or you come out? Since Simmons…”

“Promise there aren’t any Hydra agents or police waiting to arrest me?” she asks. She wants it to be a joke but it comes out sounding wounded.

He manages what she couldn’t and gives her a smile. “None in the immediate vicinity. At least that I know of.”

She shuts the door and puts her ICER in the back of her jeans just to be safe before undoing the chain and stepping into the chill air outside. Fitz pulls back a step to give her room.

They’re close. _Very_. And with the door closed behind her, she feels a surge of claustrophobia rattle her already frayed nerves.

She looks up and down the edge of the hotel. “Nope. No Hydra or cops out here. Still good, ol’ reliable Fitz.”

He lifts an arm and her brain screeches to a halt because _Fitz!_ and _close personal space!_ and a whole host of other cheesy, romance movie-type things she is not prepared to think about seriously. But then he knocks gently on the door behind her.

“Knock on wood,” he says and drops his arm back to his side.

She crosses hers over her chest and sways on her heels. “So … are you seriously gonna make me ask what’s going on for a _third time_?”

He looks down at his toes and she could swear she sees him blushing in the yellow light. She doesn’t get to see clearly though because the next second he’s got his arms wrapped around her and his face is in her neck.

“I was afraid we’d lost you.” The words shake up from his chest. She feels his breath in her hair, on the skin of her shoulder.

There was no time for relief earlier. It seems like there’s never time anymore. It’s always time for the Next Thing - which, under SHIELD, was usually paperwork or debriefing but today was running and collapsing. She didn’t realize how much she needed this until his arms were around her and now her eyes are burning and her throat is tight.

She hugs him back, gripping his back and shoulder as tight as she can. She mirrors him, putting her face in his shoulder to stop any crying she might be tempted to let out.

He squeezes her once before slowly easing away, giving her time to decide if she’s ready to let go.

“You have really got to stop doing that,” he says.

A flippant  _it kind of goes with the job_ is on her lips but there’s not a job, not anymore. So instead she says, “I really do, huh?”

The cold air makes her hyperaware of all the places their bodies touched. She looks at his lips because it’s the absolute last place she should be looking. She can’t decide if she wants to kiss him because she wants to or because she can still taste Ward in her mouth.

She looks away and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear to hide her face. She’s not going to kiss him. If she only does it because of Ward, that’s unfair to Fitz and if she really wants to, today is not the day to find out.

“I should get back inside,” she says. “Simmons’ll be out soon and we wouldn’t want her to worry too. I’m not sure I could handle another hug like that.”

He manages a smile but it’s as forced as hers. “I’ll have you know I give excellent hugs.”

“Really? They teach you a class on that at the Academy? Was it right after Cuddling 204?”

“It was a prerequisite to it, actually. Shows how much you know.”

He steps back and her hand closes over the doorknob behind her.

“Night, Fitz,” she says. “Same to Trip.”

“I’ll tell him. Good night.”

She slips through the door and closes it behind her quickly. The shower’s off but Simmons, thankfully, is still in the bathroom. Skye doesn’t know her own mind well enough to explain what just happened out there. She hurries to her bed, sets her ICER on the nightstand, and focuses her eyes on the TV even while her mind is still firmly rooted just outside the door.


End file.
